


Ace of Chance

by Jesifish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto's Birthday 2k17, College AU, M/M, No Smut, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesifish/pseuds/Jesifish
Summary: It's Bokuto's birthday. He's in college and his roommates are determined that he celebrate accordingly. Someone is missing from the party, however.





	1. College Parties

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this by saying I wrote it purely for my own personal enjoyment and to celebrate Bokuto's Birthday. I'm not a fic writer typically, nor have I ever written either Bokuto's or Akaashi's character before. I really enjoyed writing this though so I may post chapters later on or start a longer, more plotted story. For now, take this short story for what it's worth. I hope you enjoy it.

His first birthday at university is meant to be wild, or so Kuroo says. So naturally, Bokuto has to ensure that this party is even wilder than the previous one. 

Their suite is decked out in the worst and flashiest paraphernalia from the worst and flashiest party store in Tokyo, much to Sawamura “my room is off-limits” Daichi’s dismay. But, as Bokuto has told his roommate more than 4 times today, he can take them down when it’s  _ his  _ birthday. 

_ “Hey Hey Hey!” _ Chides Oikawa in his trademark croon from outside the door. The greeting is the secret password to get in. It’s posted on the door. Though honestly, no one can be blamed for an inability to read Bokuto’s handwriting, especially since his only writing instrument at the time was a yellow highlighter.  

Kuroo opens it with Bokuto still clinging onto his back in what  _ was  _ about to be the chicken-fight of the century. Toru pushes past him with a flourish and with a slightly-less-frowny-than-typical Iwaizumi on his heels. The taller Kuroo, however, quickly cuts Iwaizumi off, arms crossed over his chest, forcing Bokuto to cling on or fall off. 

“Password?” Kuroo urges; all captain and authority despite the fact that everyone in the room knows it’s a front and knows that he just chased tequila with gin. 

“Hey.” The trespasser offers, taking a few more steps into the room only to be blocked again; this time, by his own escort. 

“Iwa-chan. Show your good spirit” Oikawa teases. 

Iwaizumi takes advantage of Oikawa’s self-distraction to bulldoze through him, murmuring a barely-audible  _ “you first” _ on his way in. Once he has a beer in his hand, the need for a password is null and void anyway--  _ house rule _ . ‘House rule’, or, ‘Daichi’s rule’ or, ‘someone’s fear of an RA catching a room full of first-years drinking and not one of them being of age.’  _ Ridiculous.  _

“You don’t have a shot in your hand.” Komi says, immediately rectifying that with not one, but two glasses, one dark, one light. 

“Good thing I’m not drinking alone then!” Bokuto whoops, pushing the lighter one back into Komi’s hand and raising his glass. Komi taps his with a grin. They drink. It tastes like asphalt. 

It’s after the fourth shot where Bokuto finally blurts out the elephant in the room; or missing from the room; or whatever the right figure of speech is in this case. It’s been bugging him since they started over an hour ago. It’s the reason he’s been in constant sight of the door. He nudges Daichi just under his ribs, in the spot he’s ticklish. 

Even with eyes slightly glazed over and colour in his cheeks, Sawamura remains the most responsible guy in the room by a long shot. Bokuto knows, it’s always easy to tell when people are unlike him.

“Hey. Where’s Akaashi?” He asks, finally.

The room doesn’t go silent; not the way it does in movies. It remains buzzing and dizzying and as though nothing is missing. The reason returns to Daichis expression and he sits up straighter, forcing Sugawara to sit up as well. His brow furrows and he looks between Sugawara and Bokuto for a silent moment. Bokuto’s not sure if time has slowed or if Daichi is hesitating. He tries again

“Hey--” 

“He’s not coming, Bo’. He’s still in high school, he didn’t have to just move to a different dorm floor like most people here.”Daichi admits.

Bokuto's throat goes dry, like when he misses a spike; though it _could_ just be the liquor. He points to Kenma with his full arm extended, yielding no reaction from the boy himself although Kuroo is already on his feet. 

“Kenma’s in highschool, too.” He blurts out.  

_Now_ the silence. Usually he likes it but it doesn’t feel right; missing a listener. 

Kenma speaks softly, enough that they all lean in toward him, making him consequently speak quieter and repeat until he’s done talking. 

“I was already in Tokyo, Akaashi would’ve had to take the train.”

Bokuto bites his lip and blinks until his eyes are dry again; not that they ever weren’t. Konoha has already forced a glass of what is either vodka or water into his hand and has removed his collection of empty cans from beside him. 

Konoha leans in like he has a deep secret. 

“Azumane has drank more water than you.” He whispers so only Bokuto can hear.  

_                Oh Yeah.?  _

He’s on his feet in an instant, spilling most of the aforementioned water/vodka onto Daichi’s lap. Daichi growls something, probably, but Bokuto can’t hear him because he’s too busy being up in Asahi’s face. 

“You think you can pull this off? You’re looking at one of the top 5 aces in the--” 

“I didn’t--” Azumane staggers back, hands in the air and water glass falling a near-6 feet to the tile below. Nishinoya, of course, catches it, fills it with the (very) spiked punch, and hands it back. 

Azumane’s clumsiness gives Bokuto an advantage and he’s already slamming back _another_ glass of water; Mostly on his shirt, but he’ll probably absorb it eventually. 

When the room stops spinning, or when he’s spinning with it, Bokuto sits back down on the futon; or rather, he sits on Kuroo who is sitting on Daichi who is sitting on the futon. 

He pulls his phone out of his hoodie, congratulates himself on it still being there, and-- Kuroo slaps it to the floor. 

“Do not. I know what you’re about to do.” He snaps. 

“You don’t.” Bokuto challenges, ensuring his voice is louder than Kuroo’s outburst and thus, that he’s right. 

Oikawa leans against the edge of the couch, wine glass in hand.

“Do we  _ own  _ wine glasses?” Bokuto attempts (and fails) to whisper into Kuroo’s hair. 

“He brought his own” Iwaizumi shrugs, blatantly ignoring the directed pout from Oikawa. “Because he’s like that.” 

“Iwa-chan’s mean comments aside, have you drunk-texted Akaa-chan yet?” Oikawa asks in feigned innocence. Iwazumi punches him in the side. The wine survives. 

The name’s cute. Bokuto wishes he’d come up with it. More importantly, Oikawa somehow figured him out. “How--” 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Sugawara adds, pity in his voice but none in his smirk.

So it’s pretty obvious, but while his  _ friends  _ are telling him what a bad idea it is, Bokuto has already sent a rather rushed message to his co-captain. 

[ 22:43 to: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] ur not here :((((( 

The response, 15 minutes of drinking later, both startles him and reminds Bokuto that his phone is still in his pocket, that he  _ owns  _ a phone, and that phones, as a concept, exist. 

[ 22:59 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] You’re pretty far. And I have class tomorrow. 

[ 23:01 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Happy Birthday Bokuto-san 

For words on a screen, they sure sting like a slap to the face. Maybe worse considering who they’re coming from. He frowns, and turns conspicuously away from their game of--  _ something  _ with cards-- to type what he thinks is a prompt reply. 

[ 23:33 to: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Not san pls itsme birhdya

[ 23:33 to: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] *autocorrent

Regardless of the distance, Akaashi is, at the very least, always there to call him out. 

[ 23:37 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] It’s been half an hour and also autocorrect would never correct to that,

[ 23:37 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Bokuto. 

He _immediately_ blushes and Suga elbows him back on the ticklish spot in revenge for Daichi who is too honourable to do it himself. Bokuto blames it on the liquor since there is no other reason for it; aside from the years of pent up and complicated feelings towards whom he considers his best friend/soulmate even after ‘breaking it off’ . There are too many ways he wants to respond and they all get mixed and muddled and confused. He ends up sending none of them, too fixated on picking one, to remember what exactly he was originally choosing from. 

There are too many ways he wants to respond and they all get mixed and muddled and confused. He ends up sending none of them, too fixated on picking one, to remember what exactly he was originally choosing from. 

Promptly at 1AM, the party ends. Oikawa is the first to excuse himself but not before winking at almost everyone in the room. He and his wine glass and probably also Iwaizumi stop in the doorway. Oikawa smirks wide and malicious, like he does from the other side of the net. 

“Enjoy your present, Bo-chan” 

Bokuto assumes he meant the nice blue v-neck OIkawa had definitely worn in that now lay crumpled in some corner of the room. Finders keepers.  _ Thanks Oikawa.  _

Blue Castle's departure unleashes **The Great Un-spooning** ; the gradual unlatching of the pile they ended up in, until only Bokuto and his roommates remain. Daichi stands first, practically drags Kuroo to his feet, 

“Time for bed Tetsuro. You can’t sleep out here.” 

Kuroo mutters something that is probably protest but not before Daichi forcibly throws the taller boy into his room and shuts the door. Daichi rolls his shoulders and squats down beside Bokuto. 

“Good Birthday?” He asks quietly. 

Bokuto pauses, looks once more towards the door and back at Daichi with the largest grin he can muster. 

“Yeah, good birthday.” 

Daichi pats him twice on the back and shuts the door to his own room, leaving Bokuto alone in the common-area. He sits there for a few more minutes, staring blankly at his phone, willing a response. He doesn’t want Akaashi to answer him out of pity again. It was too pathetic. And like he did in Highschool, Akaashi understood that, too. The message comes in silently on the already open screen. 

[ 1:15 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Doors at your dorm lock after 22h.


	2. Night Owl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a confusing message from Akaashi, Bokuto leaves the safety of his dorm room for the great outdoors. Bokuto remembers move-in day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this all at the same time but wanted to break it up. After the 3rd chapter will be new content but for now it'll all be posted in succession.

[ 1:15 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Doors at your dorm lock after 22h.

* * *

The answer makes no sense. But he’s also drunk so maybe he’s the one who doesn’t make sense. He responds to what he _thinks_ to be the best of his ability; which must be pretty good. He _is_ in the top 5, after all.

[ 1:16 to: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] ???????????????

The response is nearly instantaneous

[ 01:16 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] I’m saying come to the eastern stair. The one by the tennis court.

The sense is still not there but Bokuto learned in second-year that listening to Akaashi is always a good idea. He leaves the door unlocked, heads in the way that is probably East but _definitely_ probably the direction of the tennis court.

The fourth floor never felt so high up.

He slams the door open to the overwhelming sound of cicadas. There’s no one here. He swallows again, the dryness is back. His phone buzzes.

[ 01:20 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Other East.

Leaning as far as he can out the fire-door without actually releasing it, Bokuto cranes his head in the largest possible radius. There’s a small boy walking toward him. He looks a lot like Akaashi. He texts back.  

[ 01:21 to: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] there’s a guy here who looks like you

The boy looks pauses, looks at his phone then continues towards him. The reply comes in shortly after.

[ 01:21 from: akAAAAAAAAAAAshi ] Look again.

And he does, once again, because Akaashi’s advice is always good. And maybe it’s that he’s close enough or maybe it’s because Bokuto really wishes it to be the case, but the boy is Akaashi. Probably.

Bokuto lurches forward, ready to run across the quad to get to Akaashi and to what was probably actually the Eastern door. But Akaashi is running towards hhim,arm outstretched

“Bokuto-san DON’T” He shouts.

 After a near-comedic double take to the door, Bokuto catches it with one leg stuck out at the last minute. He swivels back into the doorframe and waits, bouncing from heels to toes, as Akaashi draws closer.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto starts, far to noisily considering the hour and the weekday. “They said you weren’t-- _You_ said you weren’t”  

Akaashi shrugs, he’s smaller than Bokuto remembers, but maybe _he’s_ just grown. He walks past Bokuto into the stairwell as though he’s always lived there. His hair’s grown a bit but not so much that he doesn’t look like himself.

“I had to catch the late train. Your roommates said it would be better this way.” He says casually.

Bokuto’s eyes widen in disbelief, though at what specifically he isn’t sure.

“Even _Daichi?_ “

Akaashi nods, somehow leading _him_ up the stairwell.

It’s on the second landing that Bokuto stumbles, that Akaashi backtracks to climb beside him, loops an arm around his waist without warning. Bokuto feels himself tense, it makes climbing the stairs even more difficult.

“Bokuto-san if you’re going to break yourself please wait until I leave.” Akaashi’s fingers knead into the muscle at his side just once, before they relax and simply guide him.

Finally and by some miracle or by a specific dark-haired miracle, they arrive back at the cat-sandwhich suite. Akaashi pushes open the door and surveys the damage.

“Does it always look like this or is it because of the party.”

Bokuto opens his mouth to answer, freezes, because he isn’t sure if being honest is more important than being impressive. Akaashi’s already in Bokuto’s room when he answers his own question.

“Always like this, then. “He nods to himself.

Still a bit drunk and still mostly awe-struck, Bokuto follows him in, past the empty bottles that had been propping the door open which he now kicks aside with possibly too much vigour. They clatter around the kitchen and are subsequently out of his domain and thus, not his problem.

Akaashi raises one brow and tilts his head towards to the door. Bokuto nearly trips shutting it with himself on the correct side. The room is spinning again. Akaashi’s jaw is more pronounced in the lamplight. Akaashi leans back onto his twin bed without asking, just like he did in highschool. He pushes the mess of blankets, clothes, and ‘associated-sleep-items’ against the headboard and leans back, his socked feet pointing and flexing on the grey sheets of Bokuto’s bed. Bokuto joins him, sort of; sits on the end, waiting for some sort of invitation. After things have been-

Different.

* * *

 

It’s his moving day. Saru’s new car is packed to bursting and that’s with Komi resigning himself to a seat on Bokuto’s lap. The team is here to see them off. It’s bittersweet, in a way, like watching practice without them in it. His grin only fades when he looks at Akaashi. It’s been two years since they’ve met; almost one since they--. Akaashi doesn’t say much, although he rarely does. Bokuto has been sure that his side-long glances have been noticed.

When Akaashi finally approached him, alone, it’s by the open car door. Saru and Komi are shoving the rest of their stuff into the gaps in the trunk. Bokuto’s grin broadens, encompasses most of his face.

“AKAAAASHI” He wants to kiss his neck, to lean against the car and lift the small boy so their faces meet. He wants to revel in Akaashi’s attention that somehow is, and somehow has always been, more desirable, more sought after, than anyone else’s.  He wants so many things.

“Bokuto-san.” He starts in that tone of voice that makes Bokuto’s eyes narrow; makes him shut up, and makes him listen. “I can’t go with you.”

Bokuto tits his head, perhaps too far to the side. “Yeah of course not, you wouldn’t fit in the car!” He laughs. There’s a nervousness behind it that wasn’t there before.

Akaashi sighs, subtly and slowly entangles their fingers. His hands have always been so cold but they’re sweaty now, warm against Bokuto’s skin. The same chill still bristles through him.

“Bokuto-san, you need to focus on school and not on--” Akaashi gestures to the rest of the team, now talking amongst themselves. “On this. Me included.”

His eyes widen. Now Bokuto feels truly _cold_. He wants to maintain his composure but he doesn’t want to keep the chill to himself. His eyes sting a little but Akaashi still hasn’t let go. He doesn’t understand.

“Akaa-- I don’t--” His voice cracks and breaks.

Akaashi lifts himself onto his toes, kisses him once, softly, slowly. From this close Bokuto can feel that same hand shaking, quivering just slightly. But maybe it’s just his own. Akaashi takes a step back. Akaashi _lets go_.

“University will be different. Get settled, figure out what you need and what you want. Then we can see where we both stand.”

Akaashi isn’t looking at him. Bokuto hates when Akaashi doesn’t look at him, but he doesn’t have the words to ask otherwise. His hands ball into white-knuckled fists. He isn’t even sure what he’s supposed to figure out when what he wants and what he needs just told him to find something else.

“Akaashi--” His voice breaks again, fades off into a whimper. Akaashi watches, silently before turning away. His back is turned but his voice wavers just slightly.

“This is the only way, Bokuto-san. I’m sorry.”

It’s the worst road-trip of Bokuto’s life.


	3. Rebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is pretty good at reading people, or at least, at reading Bokuto. After enough time, he's ready to talk and for once, Bokuto has nothing to say.

About 3 weeks since move-in, Akaashi texts him, asks how he’s doing. It’s a good thing because Bokuto has been resisting the desperation to text first since leaving Kanto. He didn’t, of course, in the end it’s always Akaashi who gives him what he needs.

______

They’ve texted, or Bokuto has texted, consistently since that day. And Akaashi always responds although never shares too much about himself.

It’s different on the phone; late at night when neither should be awake but both are. Akaashi talks more when he’s fighting off sleep. Bokuto loves it when Akaashi talks.

_____

Now it’s late. Now they’re going to talk. Bokuto wrings his hands in his lap, staring at Akaashi’s socks rather than at his face.

“Have you figured it out? Do you remember?” Akaashi’s voice breaks the silence. Bokuto’s focus snaps up in an instant. Even in his state he can recognize that tone of voice from before. He remembers it all too well.    

He crawls a bit closer to Akaashi, wide-eyed but now staring, very intently, at the boy who still doesn’t look up. “

I figured it out before I left. Being far doesn’t change that you’re--” He starts but loses his voice as quickly as he had found it.

Now it’s Akaashi who stares, dumbfounded, he’s wincing, brow furrowed, and fingers clawed into the bedsheets at his side.

“The same.” Akaashi repeats. He chews on his lip when he thinks too hard. Bokuto used to kiss it better whenever he did. “So you want to go _back_.”  

They’re not questions but a process, Bokuto holds his tongue along with everything else he’s been wanting to release. He’s always had too much to say, so when he’s sure Akaashi is ready, he picks the first to come to mind. It’s been bothering him for a while, after all, and Bokuto’s never been good at withholding this kind of thing.

“What about you, Akaashi?” He asks; tentative, afraid.   

Akaashi stares at him, at the mess of clothes on his floor, at the glow stars half-stuck half-falling off of his ceiling. He breathes in, sharply, falteringly, and out.

“Me too.”

It’s enough. It’s enough and it’s too much and Akaashi has been too far for too long to be so far away now. Bokuto moves forward again, nearly falling off the bed when one leg slips off the side. He hovers, over Akaashi, who hasn’t moved and who hasn’t stopped _staring_. Bokuto's fingers are still too hesitant to reach out.

Akaashi does it for him. Unlocks his hands to favour Bokuto’s. The loss of his left arm sets him off balance and Bokuto has to squeeze Akaashi’s hips with his thighs to regain it. He hopes it looks completely spontaneous. Akaashi’s expression hasn’t changed but his fingers are running over Bokuto’s knuckles. They’re warm again, clammy. Bokuto doesn’t mind.

“You smell terrible, Bokuto-san. Like Kuroo bathed you in Whiskey.”

Bokuto tries to recoil, but Akaashi pulls his hand back down and the rest of him obliges without protest. His head snaps to stare at the door and to where Kuroo presumably exists beyond it. He doesn’t remember what exactly had happened but the story doesn’t necessarily seem unlikely. He doubts Sawamura would let it happen but he’s been wrong about Daichi before.

“He didn’t! I don’t think.”

Akaashi laughs now. The first time he heard it, Bokuto believed it to be forced. Now it’s a genuine and reassuring sound.

“Did you have fun, at least?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto flops onto his back, Akaashi slides down next to him and is immediately enveloped in every limb Bokuto has control of. The party was great or, at least, not what he had been expecting which was apparently the entire point. But it felt incomplete, mostly, until it ended.

“It was fun, But I kept thinking how much better it would’ve been with you.” he confesses.

Akaashi kisses the crook of his neck but clearly also conceals a laugh in the gesture. Still, he lingers, his lips wet against Bokuto's skin. It’s far too exaggerated to be an innocent and sweet gesture.  _Unfair._

“I’ll come to the next one.” he promises.

Akaashi only shifts back when Bokuto loosens his grip. Bokuto makes sure to pout to the best of his ability to compensate for the late hour. Akaashi definitely notices but chooses not to acknowledge it.

“Akaashi.” Bokuto whispers finally, shrugging one of the blankets from their makeshift headrest over them both. “You never said Happy Birthday, not in person”

Akaashi quickly rejects the blanket fort and instead lays the cover over their hips. Bokuto only responds with the slightest of pathetic whimpers which, also, goes unanswered. Akaashi adjusts the blanket at Bokuto’s side, but his hand remains on his hip, fingers running over Bokuto’s hipbone and over his stomach. He quickly retaliates with one placed on the small of Akaashi’s back, with enough leverage to roll Akaashi’s tiny body beneath him.

Akaashi is either unphased or accustomed to this.

“Doesn’t it defeat the purpose if I only tell you because you ask, Bokuto-san?” He asks, amusement betraying his monotone.

Bokuto turns his head to the side, pretends not to notice Akaashi’s point or the pressure against his hips. He fails at both.

“Tell me something else nice, then. And drop the san already” He pleads, unable, after all, to turn away for any longer. He runs a finger over Akaashi’s shoulder, over the ridges in his neck, over the sharp edges of his jaw. Akaashi shuts his eyes, just for a moment and Bokuto has never seen something more beautiful and serene.

“ I missed you, Bokuto” Akaashi murmurs, his skin hot beneath Bokuto’s fingertips.

Bokuto wants to follow the heat to where it radiates from, to trail kisses down to Akaashi’s chest and through to his core. He wants to do so many things. But at this time, it’s enough, it’s more than enough.

 

The rest can wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last snippet of what I wrote for Birthkuto2k17. Depending on how I'm feeling I may write a final, slightly spicier chapter afterward. This was a lot of fun to write even if I rushed it a lot. Expect more Haikyu fics eventually, probably with better editing. Thank you for reading!


End file.
